


his loss was like a burden lifting

by BananaStrings



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Episode: s05e09 What Happened and What's Going On, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Rick Grimes/Glenn Rhee, Semi-Public Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaStrings/pseuds/BananaStrings
Summary: If Rick had died in Richmond instead of Tyreese.
Relationships: Glenn Rhee/Tyreese Williams
Kudos: 4





	his loss was like a burden lifting

They left the bed free, not as a courtesy, but because no one liked to sleep in a dead man's bed. Tyreese took the bed anyway that night. He wasn't sure the owner was dead. This long, country road had been free of corpses and char, free of cars and survivors also.

It looked less like exodus and more like quest that had sent the residents away from their homes here. It gave him his first flash of hope that D.C. had something to offer them. They burned candles behind the draped windows and waited out the night in this one-roomed cabin.

They'd all had a bathe that afternoon. There was a hand pump alongside the cabin that had given up clear, clean-tasting, spring water. Glenn had spotted it, stopped their cars, and hopped out to try it—giving the first grin they'd seen in ages, when he'd gotten a mouthful.

This was their first night not spent circling Rick's grave, in a week. Carl hadn't been able to leave, and they couldn't leave Carl.

_"He's all alone. He's all alone."_

They'd heard him:

_I'm all alone. I'm all alone._

They had camped in a different spot each night, returning midday for Carl to sit by the small cross of branches stripped bare with the brown sheriff's hat resting atop. Noah had sat beside him, rubbing his back. His own grief had been fresh.

On the seventh day, Noah had finally broken down into tears. Carl had reached out and rubbed his back, he had told them he was ready to go. They hadn't made it far that late in the afternoon, so had stopped well ahead of sundown and made camp in the forest in this enclave of vacation homes.

Maggie had found the sweet potato vines, growing in the yard of the next house over. She had recognized the green hearts of the foliage and dug down for them with Glenn. She was colder and harder than Tyreese had ever seen her, and he was glad. She didn't need to be soft and warm for Beth and Glenn and Hershel anymore. She was truer now. Even if Daryl and Carol split off as they'd been seriously considering, their group would still be strong enough to attempt D.C.

Michonne had looked relieved at the burial, like the dropping of that shovelful of dirt over Rick's body had been the dropping of an immense weight. She had been sad, but it was a melting sadness like a thaw of ice sliding off of a steepled roof. She had been keeping herself in bleakest winter so that she could remember the feel of it, so she could guide Rick away from it.

For all his trying, Rick had gone to the end not knowing how far was too far and how far not far enough. A serious liability for a leader to have. He'd been handling it by being handled by Michonne on one side and Glenn on the other.

Glenn stood by Tyreese's sleeping spot tonight. Tyreese had been half-expecting it since the day Rick went into the ground. Noah had made them carry Rick's body back to Carl:

_"He'll need to see. He'll need to see with his own eyes."_

Tyreese had slung him over his shoulder and hefted him along. They'd barely made it with such a burden, but it had been the right thing to do. Carl and Noah had spent this evening with a safety razor and a pair of scissors, shearing Carl's long hair down to his scalp. He was lying beside Noah now, bareheaded as a novitiate committing to a new way.

The two young men had roasted thin slices of sweet potato over a candle. The scent was enough to fill the room with comfort and familiarity but not to travel beyond their walls. They hadn't risked a cooking fire so had eaten most of their own plants raw. They'd been delightful anyway, bitter greens and snappy tubers. Carol and Daryl had masticated the cooked into applesauce-like consistency to feed to Judith. They were all committed to keeping the baby as fat as possible in the event that they hit a famine. Luckily, she was a good feeder.

They all took their blessings where they could. Everyone knew Glenn had been sexually active with Rick after a time. Maggie had tolerated it. (Anything was better than a pregnancy.) At the funeral, with their priest reading his eulogy, Glenn had stopped to kneel in the dirt and sob for a moment, just one.

_"You were a good fucker."_

He'd laughed it all off. The accidental double meaning had broken the shellshock of the group. That first joke had allowed them to leave Rick on that first afternoon. Only to have Carl demand they return in the morning.

Now Glenn stood beside Tyreese, as Tyreese looked up at him from his back. He knew what Glenn’d had with Rick. He'd stood guard for them one of the handful of times the two had asked someone to watch their backs, no secrets or privacy in this group, it wasn't safe. So, he'd seen Glenn brace against a tree and Rick step up behind, seen the quick slick of some kind of mineral oil, then Rick push slowly inside, the short, careful thrusts, and the short wait for the end. Rick had been quick on the draw. Glenn hadn't gotten hard, hadn't gotten kissed either, but the brief release of endorphins had been enough to give him a sigh and a half-smile afterward—a worthy gift in this world.

It wasn't much to ask, not too much to offer, so checking that Carl was asleep Tyreese rose to string a sheet through the trusses of the rustic ceiling to shield them, before lying back down and waving Glenn down with him. Glenn straddled his hips, and Tyreese pulled another blanket up far enough to tie it around the man's waist. That way Glenn could undress without having to worry about being exposed if they had to run.

Glenn's weight felt good. Tyreese was hard before the slick palm found him to prep. It wasn't like his body didn't know what was coming. In fact, he must have known exactly what was coming, it must have played out the same each time, consistent in the position and the silence and the open-eyed vigilance.

This was different and Glenn felt uncertain, Tyreese could tell. He was not used to moving into the stretch, didn't know how to make his body relaxed and active at the same time. Tyreese didn't rush him, didn't push. He couldn't do that. It wasn't in his nature. So when Glenn stilled, steeling himself to try again, Tyreese pulled him forward and kissed him, just softly, encouraging him to take what was offered.

Glenn was hesitant, uncertain still, but still Tyreese didn't push. Eventually he understood and kissed him back. Tyreese rewarded him by gripping his hips between his hands and guiding him down and up in a fluid roll of Glenn's bowed body. Glenn huffed into his mouth. When he did it again, there was a soft sound of pleasure sent into the room. Glenn looked at him and Tyreese nodded, continuing to move him as Glenn gave more hushed sounds.

Glenn was hard now too. His balls dragged low on Tyreese's belly now and again. He wasn't taking in much of Tyreese's erection. He was certainly wider than what Glenn was used to. But that seemed to be a boon, when a moment later Glenn was leaking pre-ejaculate all over him. Sweat broke out on both of them. Glenn fussed at the blanket. Tyreese stopped long enough to peek around their curtain and survey the room.

Sasha and Michonne were lying facing away, Michonne cupping a hand over Sasha's ear to whisper to her, keeping her hearing from the bed behind them. No one else was paying them mind; rare full bellies had put most to sleep. Tyreese repositioned the curtain and turned back to Glenn to gather the tied blanket up in his hand and off of their warmed skin. Glenn sighed in relief. He gripped his own erection now and stroked slowly, as Tyreese started to move him again.

Tyreese watched Glenn's black hair begin to shine with fresh sweat. He could see it rise gradually from the deep skin of his own arms too as he handled him, a gratifying glow. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anyone exert themselves for pleasure. This wasn't efficient, or quick. This was something they'd thought they would never find again—this was luxury.

"We're still alive," Tyreese gasped out.

Glenn locked eyes with him, and then both men smiled when they heard Daryl's mumble from across the room:

"You're damn right."


End file.
